


Connections

by xanzpet (gleefulmusings)



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Angst and Humor, Best Friends, Friendship, M/M, Male-Female Friendship, Mild Language, Romance, Season/Series 01, Season/Series 04, Sexual Content, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-08-09
Updated: 2013-04-01
Packaged: 2017-11-11 18:43:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/481664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gleefulmusings/pseuds/xanzpet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Angel attempts to decipher the mysteries of his new cell phone, he makes a surprising connection. And then Cordelia gets involved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Conversation

 

  


 

 

  


"Slayerette Mortuary. Buffy bags 'em, we tag 'em!"

There was a pause before a throat cleared and a voice both hesitant and annoyed grumbled, "Xander?"

The boy paused in his footsteps. "Deadboy? You have a phone? You know how to _use_ a phone?"

Angel sighed.

 

A small smirk found its way onto Xander's face.

"It's new," the vampire admitted. "Cordelia made me get a cell phone in case of emergencies."

Xander pursed his lips at the mention of his ex's name being so casually uttered by his nemesis. He guessed Angel was his nemesis. He was pretty sure Angel considered him beneath the label of 'nemesis,' though. Whatever.

He didn't like to think about Angel and Cordelia working together, spending so much time together, possibly having quality time in which fluffy kitten feelings might develop. Still, he supposed there was nothing he could do about it. He therefore resolved to exploit this opportunity and taunt the vampire he had once gleefully lived to annoy.

"Why, Deadboy! You move to L.A., you get a cell phone. You've gone all Hollywood!"

Angel snorted and quickly tried to smother it by covering his mouth, hoping against hope that Xander hadn't heard him.

"Did you just laugh?" the boy shrieked. "At me? At something _I_ said? Did you just laugh at _me_ making fun of _you_?"

The vampire said nothing.

"Deadboyyyyyyyyyy," Xander sang. "Here's a helpful tip: if you angrily want to hang up on someone, flip down the cover of the phone or press the big honking button marked END."

"I thought I called Buffy," was the baleful response.

"You did. I have her phone. She gave it to me because I'm on my own for patrol tonight."

Angel paused for a moment, sure he hadn't heard the boy correctly. "Alone? Buffy's letting you patrol alone now?"

"Yeah, so what?" Xander barked. "I'm perfectly capable of walking around a cemetery. I can loom! I can look menacing! I can scream real loud!"

"Okay, okay. I was just surprised."

Angel sat back in his chair and contemplated what to do next. Frankly, he wanted to follow the boy's advice and hang up on him, but he was alone and rather bored, and while he would never admit it, Xander could, on occasion, be entertaining.

Besides, he wanted dirt.

Cordelia had so far refused to contact anyone in Sunnydale, and he wanted to know how Buffy was doing. And maybe he was concerned about the others. Not that they'd believe him, and not that he'd ever tell Xander.

"But if she gave you her phone, how can you get a hold of her if you need help?"

Xander didn't immediately answer, which set off warning bells in Angel's head.

"Xander?" he prompted.

"Um, A-Angel? Look," he exhaled, "I...I'm just not sure how much she would want me to tell you."

"There's someone else."

Xander sighed. "Yeah, there is," he quietly answered. "She met him at school. He's her Psychology T.A."

"She's dating her teacher?"

"Well, he's not exactly her teacher. He's her teacher's assistant. He's a grad student."

"Well. That's...good. I'm happy for her."

Xander snorted. "Yeah, the peals of joy are ringing through loud and clear. You don't have to put on a front with me, Deadboy. I know it hurts."

Angel didn't know what to say to that. He wondered how often Xander had looked at him and had thoughts similar to those he was now having. He opted to change the subject slightly. "So, what do you think of him?"

"Of Riley? Well, he's nice enough, I guess. A little boring. But what else can you expect of someone from Iowa? I think he's smart, but he doesn't seem to have much of a sense of humor, though I may be judging him too soon. I barely know him. Right now, he and Buff are caught up in the wondrousness of New Person."

The vampire grinned a little. It appeared Xander wanted to give him a thoughtful and balanced picture of Buffy's new boyfriend, but he could hear the tone of resentment and hurt underscoring the words. At last, they finally had something in common. "Is he good looking?"

"You really wanna go there, Deadboy? You want pictures of the two of them in your head?"

"In for a penny, in for a pound." Was it his imagination, or did Xander just chuckle a little bit?

"Okay," the boy agreed. "Riley Finn. Nice guy, fairly hot. He's tall, maybe even a little taller than you. He's blond, has a nice smile, blue eyes. His wardrobe could use some spice, but I'm sure Buffy will be dressing him in no time, like Cordy did with me. I probably should have paid a little more attention to her advice. But don't tell her that!

"Anyway, back to Riley. Like I said before, his sense of humor might be lacking, or maybe he's just shy around new people. I think Will and I might have overwhelmed him at first."

Angel snickered.

"Yeah, yeah," Xander said airily. "Whatever. In the beginning, you weren't around enough for us to overwhelm you, so don't act like you know."

The vampire took the teasing for what it was: harmless and good-natured. It was the first time he and Xander had talked without rancor or distrust.

"He's buff," Xander continued, "but not as buff as you."

They both fell silent for a moment.

"I didn't say that!"

"You did," Angel retorted. "You think I'm buff. Admit it, Xander, I'm buff!"

"Whatever," the kid grumbled. "Yeah, you're buff, okay? You're buff. You're beefy. Angel, the Souled Eye Candy. You're the man. You're a stud muffin. You're the Adonis of all vampires. Happy now?"

Angel cackled. "Yeah, I kinda am."

"Oh, shut up."

"Come on, Xanderrrrr," Angel playfully whined. "I'm not gonna tell. What's my best feature?"

"Your brooding silence. Hey, let's have more of that!"

"Just simmer down...Cordy."

"I take offense to that! No, wait. I don't. Because if Cordy's giving you a hard time, that can only be a good thing. Therefore, thank you. Oh, and this is weird."

"What is?"

"You and me. On the phone. Catching up. We didn't catch up while you were here, so why are we doing it now?"

"I honestly have no idea."

"Okay. As long as there's confusion for both of us at the end of the tunnel."

Angel chuckled. "So how's everyone else?" He could all but hear Xander's involuntary shrug.

"Meh. Will's okay. She's loving college and is taking part in every protest which crosses her path. She's still with Oz." A beat. "I think they're going through something right now, but I'm not sure what, and she's not talking. Then again, I'm probably not the person to whom she should come running to discuss her love life."

"Cordy's doing okay, Xander."

Another pause.

"Thanks," the boy whispered.

"And the others?"

Xander forcefully exhaled. "Giles is Giles. Still doing that British thing he does so well. I think he's at loose ends. With Buffy rooming at the dorms, she doesn't see him as much, and I think he feels kinda left out. In fact, I know he does. When Giles asks me to hang, you know he's lonely."

Angel laughed.

"Joyce is cool. She's doing her thing. She turned Buffy's bedroom into a guest room or something, I'm not sure. I know Buff was kinda pissed, but, well, what can you do? Joyce has to move on with her life, too."

"And you? How are you doing?"

"Why?"

"What do you mean?"

"No offense, Deadboy, but your only interest in me was...well, you had no interest in me. Why do you care now?"

"Because I'm on the phone with you and am trying to be polite?"

"Oh. Okay. Well, my summer off blew chunks. I got stranded in Oxnard when my car broke down, and had to take odd jobs until I could afford to get it repaired."

"What kind of jobs?"

Another silence. An _embarrassed_ silence.

"Xander?" a gleeful Angel prompted.

"If I tell you, you have to give me your _demon word of honor_ that you'll never repeat it. To anyone. _Ever_. Especially not to Cordelia."

Angel nestled the receiver in the crook of his shoulder before excitedly rubbing his hands together. This was going to be good. "I solemnly swear," he chirped.

"Iwasastripper."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

"Actually, no, I didn't. I couldn't have. It sounded like you said you were a stripper."

Xander didn't respond.

"Are you still there?"

The boy grunted.

"You were a stripper? Like, in a thong? With flashing lights and music and people throwing money at you? You took off your clothes for money?"

"Why is that so hard to believe?" Xander demanded. "Yes, I took off my clothes for money. So what? I didn't have a lot of options, Deadboy. And you know what? I was good at it! I was one of the top dancers there. Just because I don't look like you doesn't mean I'm ugly."

"Whoa!" Angel exclaimed. "No one said you were ugly, Xander. And I'm not judging you, okay? I think it took a lot of guts for you to do what you did. You do what you have to in order to survive. There's no shame in that."

"Then what the hell is so amusing?"

"Honestly? I'm picturing you dancing, and it's just not very sexy."

"Well, other people thought it was," the petulant boy mumbled.

"Okay," the vampire said agreeably. "I believe you. And I can understand why you don't want anyone else to know, especially Buffy and Cordelia. I promise you I will never say anything to anyone."

"Thanks, Deadboy."

"Sure. So...did you have a song?"

"Huh?"

"A song. Like a signature tune. Something which announced you were coming to the stage."

"Why do you wanna know?" Xander asked, suspicion lacing his voice.

"Hey, you've seen me at my worst. Just asking for a little quid pro quo."

"I don't know what that means, but whatever. Yeah, I had a song. No, I'm not telling you what it was."

"Why not? I've probably never even heard of it before. You know I don't follow popular music," he lied. Since he began working with Cordelia, Top 40 haunted his days.

Xander sighed. "Fine. It's called _Baby Got Back_."

Angel roared with laughter.

"You bastard!" the boy shrieked. "You're Angelus, aren't you? Admit it. You've gone all evil again, haven't you?"

"Nope, not evil," the vampire replied, trying to rein himself in. "Maybe a little sadistic, but not evil."

He was surprised when Xander giggled. Just a small giggle, really, but a giggle nonetheless. He errantly wondered why it was he was able to speak with Xander over a telephone. Perhaps because he wasn't being confronted with rolling eyes, pursed lips, and rude gestures.

"If it makes you feel any better," he continued, deciding to capitulate, "I sang _Mandy_ in a karaoke bar the other night."

His admission was met with stunned silence.

"Xander? Xander! Are you still there? Xander?"

" _Well, you came and you gave without taking._ "

"Shut up."

" _But I sent you away, oh Mandy._ "

"That's enough."

" _Well, you kissed me and stopped me from shaking._ "

"Harris!"

"Oh man, Deadboy!" replied Xander's wheezing voice. "You so lose at unlife. I would have paid to see that. Any chance Cordy taped it? Is there going to be an encore? You could have your own Broadway show! Or maybe the Ice Capades! Can you skate? Angel on Ice! I can see it now! Hey, know anymore Beaky songs? You should totally wear a flamenco outfit when you sing _Copacobana_!"

"You can stop anytime now."

" _His name was Angel, he wore a diamond._ "

"Stop. Now."

"What did Cordy say? I bet she was rolling on the floor!"

"It's all I've heard about for three days," Angel groused.

"Gee, I wonder why?" Xander snickered.

"Bah."

"Don't _bah_ me, Scrooge. You can't tell me something like that and then expect me not to laugh! I'm only human, Deadboy."

"Whatever. So, what else are you up to? New job? New girl?"

"Well, I suppose I'm kind of dating someone. I'm not really sure. She says we're dating, so I guess we are."

"How can you not know if you're dating someone?"

"I dunno. I'm just going with the flow. She's a little scary. Not as scary as Cordy, but she's still scary. Buff and Will don't like her of course, but that's nothing new."

"What's her name?"

"Anya."

"Anya. _Anya?_ Anya! You mean that vengeance demon?"

"Hey, she's so not a demon anymore! Totally mortal, okay? Therefore, an acceptable potential life partner. And pickings are pretty slim around the Dale, Deadboy. At least for me."

"Christ, kid! What is it with you and demons?"

"I know, right?" Xander said ruefully. "The sad thing is, I'm used to it by now. I guess I should just accept the whole demon magnet thing. You know what's even sadder? Angelus is the only one who ever gave me flowers, even though they weren't really for me."

The vampire said nothing.

"Angel?" the boy cautiously asked. "Did I say something wrong?"

Angel sighed. "No. No, you didn't say anything wrong. It's just...it hurts to think about that. What he almost did...the things he _did_ do. What he would have done had you not been there..."

"Yeah," Xander whispered.

"Thank you."

"It's cool."

"Xander, I..."

"It's cool, Deadboy, okay? Let's drop it."

"Okay. Did you ever tell her?"

"No. And I don't want you to, either."

"Why not?" asked a flummoxed Angel.

"Because it doesn't matter anymore. It's in the past, and I want to leave it there."

"You were very brave that night."

"I almost shit my pants. I knew there was really nothing I could have done had he called my bluff. Not to mention, for a moment there, I wasn't sure if Angelus was gonna kill me or kiss me."

"What if he had kissed you?" Angel quietly asked after a moment.

"Huhwha?"

"Would you have wanted him to?"

"He's evil!"

"And what if it had been me? Would you have wanted me to kiss you, Xander?"

"I have to go now, Deadboy. Patrol's over. I'll tell Buffy you called."

The reply wasn't rushed, wasn't nervous; it was curt and rang with a finality which Angel found mysteriously depressing.

"Xander, wait!"

But all he heard was a buzzing silence.

He looked down at the phone's LCD and saw it flashing. He'd been on the phone with Xander for forty-two minutes and had learned more about the boy in that time than he had after three years in his company. And he wanted to know more. He looked down at his hand.

"Shit."

 


	2. Reaching Out

"The number you have dialed, 1-800-HELLMOUTH, has been disconnected due to an impending apocalypse. Please put your head between your knees and kiss your ass goodbye."  
  
"Is there really an apocalypse?"  
  
"Hello Deadboy," Xander groaned. "Please tell me why I'm so unlucky to be hearing from you so soon? When you went off to do your own thing, we all thought you'd actually like, you know, _leave_."  
  
"I was worried about you," Angel confessed.  
  
"About me? Why?"  
  
"Because of how we left things the last time I called."  
  
"You mean when I hung up on you?"  
  
Angel paused for a moment. "Right. That."  
  
"Aw, did I hurt the vampire's feelings?"  
  
The vampire said nothing.  
  
"Wait. Did I?" asked a flummoxed Xander.  
  
"This was a bad idea."  
  
"Oh! So now _you're_ going to hang up on _me_ , are you? I don't think so. See, you can't get rid of me that easily. You should know better by now. I'm free of the confines of the hallowed halls of Sunnydale High since, you know, we blew it up. And I have six bucks gas money. There's nothing stopping me from driving up to L.A. to harass you in person."  
  
"You hurt my feelings."  
  
Xander lost all words.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
"I...honestly never thought I could do that," the boy exhaled. "I mean, we've been fighting for how long now? Me hanging up the phone on you finally accomplished what was once my only goal in life?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"I don't know what to say."  
  
"I don't either," Angel admitted.  
  
"Then why did you call? I'm confused."  
  
"I am too," the vampire muttered.  
  
"Huh?"  
  
Angel sighed. "I don't know. I'm lonely. You made me laugh. I don't get to laugh very often. Cordelia's funny but, well, we don't exactly have the same sense of humor."  
  
"What the hell? Cordy and I have _exactly_ the same sense of humor, so how can hers be different from mine?" Xander paused. "Oh, I get it. This is about Buffy. This is about you using me to have a connection to her."  
  
Did Angel hear a hint of disappointment? "No, that's not it at all. I guess, I mean, I thought, that maybe you and I had connected."  
  
"Connected?" Xander blankly repeated.  
  
"Yeah."

"You and me?" Xander pressed.

"Yes."

"Like in a...a connecty way?"  
  
"Maybe," Angel grunted.  
  
"Deadboy, the last person I thought I had a connection with ended up trying to sever that connection by crushing my larynx. You remember? The crazy psycho you saved me from? Oh."  
  
"Right. Well, never mind, then. Sorry to bother you."  
  
"Wait!"  
  
"Yes?" was the eager response.  
  
Xander sighed. "I miss you too, Angel."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Yeah, but not in a connecty way, okay? I miss having a foil. I miss someone who gets my jokes, even if you never laughed at them. Buffy? Love her, but a lot goes over her head. Will pretty much tunes out anything not related to magic or Oz. Riley talks about Iowa as if it were Paris, and Anya doesn't understand why Giles polishing his glasses is funny."  
  
Angel snickered. "Come on, Xander. Is it really that bad?"  
  
"Unfortunately. And patrolling by myself? Not so much fun. All the vamps I come across are newbies who don't place any value on the art of punning. I ask you, what happened to the civility in Slaying? All of the courtesies have just flown right out the window! I'm on my third dead-end job of the month, and my parents are making me pay rent for a basement which has toxic mold and smells like Oz sprayed every corner during the last full moon."  
  
"That was vivid."  
  
"I'm an artist."  
  
"So, what job do you have?"  
  
"Are we going to have another conversation?"  
  
"Are you up for it?"  
  
"I can handle it, but no more talking about kissing. Especially about you and me kissing."  
  
Angel paused for a moment. "Okay."  
  
"Did you actually have to _think_ about that? Oh, my god! Have you been thinking about us kissing?"  
  
"Maybe," Angel whispered.  
  
"What the fuck is going on in L.A., Deadboy? Is your office in West Hollywood or something? Wait, are you undercover? I get it now. You're working the porn industry, right? Gay for pay? Some Big Bad is threatening guys with mullets and chicks with implants? Dude, leave your work at the office, okay?"  
  
The vampire sighed. "Let's just drop it. It's obvious you don't want to talk about this, so we'll move on. How's everyone?"  
  
"No, now I _do_ want to talk about this. And I'm not just being contrary. For once. Deadboy, were you really serious about kissing? About kissing me?"  
  
"What if I was?" Angel growled. "You're not interested. I get it, okay? It was just a question."  
  
"Because it's obviously been bothering you that I hung up on you instead of giving you an answer. Do you really want one? Do you really want to have this conversation, Deadboy? You might not like what you hear."  
  
"When have I ever liked what you had to say, Xander?"  
  
"Fair enough. Fine. Rephrase the question, please."  
  
"What?"  
  
"You want me on the witness stand? Okay. I promise to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but, so help me Jebus. Now, properly rephrase the question, and I'll answer it."  
  
Angel rolled his eyes before closing them. "Okay," he said slowly. "Would you, Xander Harris, have wanted me, Angel, vampire with a soul, to kiss you?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"See? That wasn't so hard." He blinked. "Wait. What? You _wanted_ me to kiss you?"  
  
"Objection. Asked and answered."  
  
"Xander," Angel snarled, "did you ever think about me kissing you? Did you really want me to? What would you have done if I had?"  
  
"Your Honor, counsel is badgering the witness."  
  
"Goddamn it! Answer the question!"  
  
"Which one?"  
  
"Any of them! Pick!"  
  
"Yes, I may have thought about what it would have been like if we had kissed."  
  
"When?"  
  
"I'm sorry, but the judge has excused me from the stand. All paper copies of these transcripts will be destroyed and expunged from the permanent record of these proceedings."  
  
"Why do you do this to me?"  
  
"Angel, it's what we do," Xander quietly answered. "I don't know how to be any other way with you. I can't give you the answers you want because I don't have them myself."  
  
"Please, Xander, please talk to me. Look, I'm not there, okay? I can't hurt you. I can't even glare at you. Last time we were on the phone, it was nice, wasn't it? It was comfortable and easy."  
  
"Until you asked that question."  
  
"I was kidding."  
  
"No you weren't."  
  
"No," Angel sighed, "I wasn't."  
  
"I don't do anything to you, Angel. It's you who does this to me. Every time we ever had a glimmer of understanding, of recognition, of a possible _connection_ ," he spat, "you always shut me down. So I stopped trying. It's easier to hate you."  
  
"Easier than what?"  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Hating me is easier than what?"  
  
"I don't understand," Xander blankly replied.  
  
"You know exactly what I'm asking you, boy. Hating me is easier than _what_?"  
  
Xander clamped his mouth shut, but Angel could still hear him breathing.  
  
"Easier than caring?" he softly asked.  
  
Xander grunted. "I don't care about you. I never did. I cared what you could do to help us. I cared what might happen if you ever turned on us. I cared about what Buffy would be put through because of your relationship. But I never cared about you, Deadboy."  
  
"You're lying."  
  
Xander laughed. "If you say so. You never knew me, Angel. You never wanted to. You were Buffy's boyfriend, and you got on with Willow, and even with Giles until..."  
  
"Say it."  
  
"Until you killed Jenny. And yes, I know that was Angelus, but he's still inside you, isn't he? He's still a threat, right? Just because you and Buffy aren't making with the supernatural whoopie doesn't mean he can't find another way to pop out, does it? And what happens then? Who would be next? Cordelia?"  
  
"I would never hurt Cordelia."  
  
"I believe you," Xander whispered. "No, I believe you don't _want_ to hurt her. And I know you never wanted to hurt Buffy, or Willow, or Giles, or m-me. Or Jenny. But you did, Angel. You hurt us bad. And maybe there's something wrong with me that I can't just get over it like Buffy did, or excuse it like Willow did, or deny it like Giles continues to do."  
  
"I never knew you and Jenny were so close."  
  
"We weren't," Xander snapped. "Jenny has nothing to do with this. Well, she does, but she doesn't. I counted on you, Angel. We all did. I counted on you to protect them, because I knew I couldn't."  
  
"But you did, Xander. You protected them when it counted." And then Angel understood. "You are not responsible for Jenny's death."  
  
"I know. I killed Jesse."  
  
"Who?"  
  
Xander laughed harshly. "You don't even know his name. Oh, my god."  
  
"I...I'm sorry."  
  
"Well, that makes two of us. We're just a sorry pair, aren't we, Deadboy?"  
  
"Who was he, Xander?"  
  
"You don't care," the boy savagely accused. "You never cared about me, Angel. You never thought of me as your friend. You never wanted me around."  
  
"No," Angel replied, "I didn't."  
  
"Ouch," Xander cackled. "That hurt more than I thought it would, but thank you for your candor."  
  
"God! I wish...I wish I knew how to _talk_ to you. We've never been able to communicate. I don't know what to say, Xander. I can't lie to you, because it's wrong, and because you always see through it. I can't avoid you, because you always know exactly which button to press."  
  
"You called _me_ , Deadboy."  
  
"The first time I called, I was trying to reach Buffy."  
  
"And who were you trying to reach tonight?"  
  
Angel didn't answer. He didn't need to. They both remained silent, yet unable to hung up on one another. Finally, the vampire cleared his throat.  
  
"Who was Jesse, Xander?" he asked again, this time with a gentleness which surprised them both.  
  
"My best friend."  
  
"But...Willow...?"  
  
"Fine. _Our_ best friend, then," Xander amended. "Before you and Buffy ever came to Sunnydale, it was the three of us. Before we could even tie our shoes, we were best friends. The Three Musketeers, that's what we called ourselves." He laughed bitterly. "God, we were so stupid and innocent. And then Buffy came. And then you. And the Master. And then _her_."  
  
"Who?" Angel blinked.  
  
"Darla."  
  
Angel stilled, as realization crashed into him. "I remember," he said softly.  
  
Xander snorted. "Well, I'm glad someone does. Willow sure doesn't seem to. Neither does Buffy."  
  
"That's your curse."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Buffy carries the triumphs; it's how she survives. It's how she's able to go on doing what it is she has to do, but you carry the deaths, Xander."  
  
"Lucky me."  
  
"It's the hardest job in the world."  
  
"Did you just give me credit for something?"  
  
"I give you credit for a lot of things. I just never told you."  
  
"Why?" Xander demanded, his tone plaintive.  
  
Angel hesitated for a moment. "You make me uncomfortable."  
  
"Me? How the hell did I make you feel anything, Deadboy? I was fifteen! I was a geek terrified of his own shadow."  
  
"Bullshit!" Angel exclaimed. "That's such a crock of bullshit, kid. You were the only one never afraid of what needed to be done. Where was Giles when Angelus came to visit Buffy in the hospital? Where was Willow or Oz or Cordelia when Buffy was drowning in the Master's fountain? It was always you, Xander."  
  
"I don't understand."  
  
"Don't you get it? We were never in competition. You had won before we ever met."  
  
"And what the fuck is it that I supposedly won, Deadboy?" Xander barked. "You got everything! You got that...that face, and that body, and the clothes! You got the superpowers, and the stealth, and the coolness!"  
  
"And Buffy?"  
  
"And Buffy."  
  
"But I never had her, Xander. Not really. I don't think you ever gave her the credit she deserved. She loved me, and I loved her, but never once after I revealed to her what I truly am did she ever look at me as anything other than a vampire. She didn't want to think about it, but it was always there. We knew it would never work; we knew we didn't belong together. We pushed all of it aside, so convinced that it would work itself out, never realizing what the consequences would truly entail."  
  
"And my supposed prize?"  
  
"You're still with her, aren't you? I'm gone, Xander. _You're_ her friend. She _trusts_ you. She loves and depends on you in ways she would never be able to with me."  
  
"Well, let me throw myself a parade."  
  
"Could you just knock off the pithy comments?" asked an annoyed Angel. "Are you telling me you'd give up the time you had with Cordelia if you had been able to be with Buffy instead?"  
  
Xander was quiet for a very long time. "No," he finally whispered.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"I've loved Cordy since we were kids," Xander quietly continued. "Even when we hated each other, I loved her. She's always been there. Maybe it was in the background at first, but she was there every step, just like Jesse and Willow. She was always one of my girls, and you know what? I think she knows that. At least I hope she does."  
  
"Tell me."  
  
"Wait. Remember when vamp Willow came through that gate and Buffy asked you if a vampire had any trace of their human personality? You started to tell the truth, but then you lied."  
  
"Yes."  
  
Xander paused for a moment. "I think I just realized something. You're really not a vampire, are you? Aside from the feeding, I mean."  
  
"Explain."  
  
"Angelus is the vampire. You were...created. He's not your curse; you're his."  
  
Angel laughed darkly. "And you think you're not smart."  
  
Xander ignored him. "Angelus is much closer to the human you were before Darla got you, isn't he? He's all of the darkness which your human self had the potential of becoming. What's your real name, Angel?"  
  
"I don't have one, but when Angelus was mortal, human, he was Liam."  
  
"Jesse was always in love with Cordelia, almost obsessed with her. After Darla turned him, he went straight for Cordy. I knew what he was going to do, so I killed him."  
  
"To save her."  
  
"And him. If he was still Jesse, he would have been horrified if he had ever hurt Cordy that way, but as a vampire, it's all he wanted. I couldn't let him do that to her. It didn't matter if she and I didn't like each other. I made a choice, and I know I made the right one."  
  
"But you blame me."  
  
"It was easier than blaming myself."  
  
"You did nothing wrong."  
  
"He was my best friend!" Xander screamed. "He was...everything."  
  
"Oh," Angel whispered.  
  
"I blamed you because you were there," said the weary boy. "You killed Darla, I killed Jesse, and there was suddenly this huge hole, and the only thing I could fill it with was anger, and you were the target. Maybe it would have been easier if I could have blamed Buffy, but she was already blaming herself. Maybe it would have been different if Willow had ever talked to me about Jesse, but she never did. But...Darla turned you. She turned Jesse. It was like you two were...almost brothers. But he was gone, and you were still there."  
  
"I understand."  
  
"You know, I think you do, and I don't know how that makes me feel." He sighed. "Yes, I had feelings for you, Angel, but I never really knew just what they were. I still don't. Yeah, I used to think what it would be like if it was you and me, and not you and Buffy, but what's the point now? What does it give us? Nothing."  
  
"It wasn't one-sided."  
  
"Stop. Please. I don't want to know this."  
  
"Too bad. I saw you, Xander. I always did. And I used to wonder."  
  
"This is what I mean, Angel. Loving you brings nothing but pain."  
  
They both started.  
  
"I didn't say that!" Xander cried.  
  
"You did. You love me. You love me?"  
  
Angel was met with silence.  
  
"Please, Xander? Please. Talk to me?"  
  
"I told you, I don't know what I feel for you," Xander hissed. "God, why did you do this to me? Why can't you just go away? You're like a yeast infection. You always come back at the worst possible moment. I can't do this with you, Angel. It hurts too much."  
  
"Please," Angel whispered.  
  
Xander sighed and ran his hand over his face. "What I feel for you is...confused. I can't even explain it to myself, let alone you. You know I think you're buff. You know I think you're hot. You know I used to think about...us, in the abstract. And even after Jesse died, I wondered what it would be like if you and I were friends. That's what I thought about more than anything: if we were friends. But too much happened, to both of us. You did things, I did things. We made the decisions we did with the information we had. What's the point of rehashing this?"  
  
"Because I want to know."  
  
"And it's all about you, isn't it? It's always been that way. About what _you_ want and what _you_ think and what _you_ feel."  
  
"Then tell me what you feel!"  
  
"I _hurt_! You hurt me! You came here, Jesse died, you got Buffy. You killed Jenny, you tried to kill all of us, and then Buffy killed you. You died, you came back, and she _still_ chose you over all of us. You left, you got to start over, and you got Cordy."  
  
"You really miss her."  
  
" _Of course_ I do! No one ever understood what we were! She filled the hole, don't you get it? She became that best friend I lost when I killed Jesse. It came full circle. And because of my own stupidity, the circle blew apart, and now she's gone, and I'm _alone_. And it doesn't matter if Buffy and Willow are still here, because we're not what we used to be, if we were ever even that. It doesn't matter if I'm dating Anya, because even though I like her and the sex is amazing, she's not Cordy. And what does that say about me? What kind of person am I that I'm just leading this poor girl on? That I'm settling? How is that fair to her? And who do I get to talk to about this? You."  
  
"What do you want me to say?"  
  
"Nothing. I don't want anything from you. I want you not to call me again. I want you to leave me alone. I want you to stop making me _feel_ things."  
  
"Is that really what you want?"  
  
"Yes! You left. You left me, Angel." He sighed. "Everyone always does."  
  
"Xander."  
  
"Goodbye, Angel." And he hung up.  
  
Angel stared down at the phone in his hand, outraged that Xander had hung up on him again.  
  
"It's not going to be that easy, boy. I won't let it be."


	3. Cavalry

Angel prowled around his office, muttering under his breath, unsure as to that of which he was complaining. His cell phone was grasped tightly in his hand, his thumb poised just over the send button. All he had to do was press it.  
  
"You're a fucking _vampire_ ," he chided himself. "Why are you so scared? All he can do is hang up on you. _Again_."   
  
Angel increased his pacing. "What do you even care? It's _Xander_! Xander Harris. There won't be an apocalypse if says he doesn't want to talk to you." He turned on his heel. "But why did he talk to me the last time? And the time before that?"  
  
He paused in his steps and glared viciously at the ceiling, as if waiting for celestial edification.   
  
He was obviously insane. Never before had he actually _wanted_ to talk to Xander. It was always about mandatory meetings and forced interludes and barbed banter. Now, he wanted nothing more in the world. Who knew that Xander's silence, the one thing for which Angel had once longed so desperately, could be so wounding?  
  
He blinked. "Xander makes me laugh. Xander is fun."   
  
The revelation almost felled him, so he eased himself into his chair and put his head in his hands.   
  
"Xander can't be fun. He's...he's _Xander_! He's annoying, and bratty, and fun, and...sexy." He blinked. "Oh, my god. I really _do_ want him! Even enough to...  
  
"No!" he screamed.   
  
He was turning into that thing, that thing Cordelia had once called him in relation to Buffy. What was it?

Wombat?

Wookie?

Woobie! He was turning into the woobie of Xander Harris!   
  
"No!"  
  


 

* * *

 

  
"What the hell is he on about?" Doyle questioned Cordelia, leaning over her desk to whisper and ogle her impressive cleavage.  
  
"Back off before I have your pants fumigated and everything below your waist dies," she warned. "If it's not already rotted from disease."   
  
She looked up and glared through the window into Angel's office. "He's brooding. Why is he brooding? He's holding his phone. For Lord's sake, can the dummy still not figure out how to work it? How the hell has he survived for centuries? I bet electricity sent him into tizzy when he first flipped a switch."   
  
She rolled her eyes and leaned back in her chair.  
  
"That's not his normal brooding, though, is it? I mean, it's so _dramatic_."  
  
Cordelia snorted. "Please! Angel's all _about_ melodrama! Hello, look at the clothes! Everything is black, black, black. Black cashmere sweater, black gabardine pants, and - what do you know? - _black_ billowy trench coat-duster thingy! Soulful eyes always too bright. Perfect hair which is never mussed, despite frequent near-undeath experiences. Hero complex based on past actions, overwhelming guilt, and the desire to save the world. Put him on any daytime soap opera, and _boom!_ Instant Emmy."   
  
She frowned, pulled her pad toward her, and began taking notes.  
  
"I just think it's something else," Doyle insisted.  
  
She waved her hand in dismissal. "He's probably thinking about Buffy and their doomed __tragic__ love, and how it will echo throughout _time_ , but they can never be together because then the world would plunge into _darkness_ and yada yada. Go get me some coffee."  
  
"Isn't it your job to _make_ the coffee?"  
  
She raised her eyes and quirked a brow.  
  
"Right, then," he rushed on. "I'll just be back in flash, won't I?" he said, beaming and rushing out of the office.  
  
Cordelia swivelled in her chair, cocked her head, and unabashedly stared into Angel's inner sanctum, watching him continue to rant silently.   
  
"You're up to something, all right," she said under her breath, her mouth twisted into a feline smile, "and it's only a matter of time before I find out what. And use it to get myself something pretty."  
  


 

* * *

 

  
"Xander, what's wrong?" Anya demanded.  
  
"Nothing. I already told you."  
  
"Then why is your penis not getting hard?" she shrieked. "I wanted orgasms!"  
  
He ground his teeth. "I'm sorry, Anya. I'd like to give you orgasms, okay? I really, _really_ would. I don't know why it's...why things aren't up to spec right now."  
  
"Is it me?" she whispered, the insecurity which she vainly struggled to quash rising to the fore.  
  
He turned sharply toward her. "It is absolutely not you. There's just lots of thoughts swirling around in my head, and I can't make them go away."  
  
She nodded. "Oh, I understand. Why didn't you just say so? This month's _Allure_ explains that when a man has emotional trauma, it can be difficult to maintain an erection."  
  
"Trauma?" he squawked.  
  
"Well, _something's_ wrong." She looked him over. "You don't seem to have any physical impairment, other than the obvious. You're upset about something. Are you sure it's not me?"  
  
"I'm sure," he sighed.  
  
Anya hesitated, not really knowing what to do, but thinking she should try and offer to do something. "Do you want to talk about it?"  
  
He considered it; he really did. It wasn't as if he could talk to Buffy or Willow about this, and certainly not Giles. He didn't know Riley like that, and he doubted the guy was comfortable discussing fluffy feelings between dudes, especially dudes who were supposed to and had hated each other for years. He just didn't think he was up to explaining everything to Anya.   
  
"Not just yet, but thank you. I appreciate it."  
  
This made her happy, pleased that her thoughtfulness was so well regarded. She patted his knee.  
  
They sat for several minutes in naked awkward silence.  
  
"Are you hard yet?"  
  


 

* * *

   
  
"I need advice."  
  
Cordelia looked up and patiently waited for Angel to explain himself.  
  
"Never mind." He turned on his heel and began heading back into his office.  
  
"Halt!" she commanded. "Haul it right back over here and spill it. You've been wandering around and babbling to yourself for days. You know it's bad when Doyle notices things. Now, tell me what's going on, and do it now, before I go downstairs and put Nair in all of your hair products."  
  
Angel blinked as a tremor of fear worked its way under his skin.  
  
"I'm waiting, here," she barked.  
  
He sighed, deciding it was time to give up the ghost. He had opened the door, and if he didn't walk through it, Cordelia would drag him kicking and screaming. "Okay, well, I have a friend."  
  
"And by friend, you really mean you. Because you have no friends. Well, except for me and Doyle, and we're employees. You pay us to be your friends."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
"Whatever. You know I'm here for you. For the really important or embarrassing stuff, at any rate. What's wrong?"  
  
"There's someone I like."  
  
"Like as in you want to play darts with them, or like as in you want to screw them through the mattress?"  
  
"Must you be so blunt?"  
  
She nodded. "I really must. Saves time." She shrugged. "So which is it?"  
  
"Um. Both."  
  
"It's not me, is it?"  
  
"No!" he said quickly.  
  
"Well, why not?" she huffed.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Am I not attractive enough for you?" she seethed, crossing her arms across her chest.  
  
"No! That's not...what are you...it's not you!" he sputtered. "And it has nothing to do with how you look. You're not the right...type."  
  
"What does that mean?" she asked, narrowing her eyes.  
  
"You're a girl," he sighed.  
  
Cordelia's eyes widened. "Oh. Oh, _wow_."  
  
"Yes," he testily replied. "Wow."  
  
"You like _Doyle_?" she shrieked.  
  
"What! No!"  
  
"Oh." She screwed up her face and thought about other potential candidates. "Lindsey?"  
  
"That's just sick and wrong."  
  
She shrugged. "He's evil, but he's hot."  
  
"It's not Lindsey!"  
  
"So who is it, then?"  
  
"That's not important! I like this guy, but he doesn't like me. As a friend or as...anything else."  
  
She winced. "That sucks."  
  
"Yeah," he whispered.  
  
"How long have you felt this way?"  
  
He shrugged. "Not long. This all happened very recently, and was totally unexpected. We talked once, and it was really nice. But then I said something stupid, and he just...cut me off. So I left it alone for a few days, and tried again."  
  
"And you stuck both feet in it that time?" she guessed.  
  
He pursed his lips. "Yes."  
  
She rolled her eyes. "Look, you really want to be with this person? Be their friend, or love muffin, or whatever? You care that much?"  
  
"I think I do, yeah."  
  
"Then force the issue. Go talk to him."  
  
"It's not that easy. He's involved with someone else."  
  
She set her jaw and blew a lock of hair out of her face. "You know how I feel about that kind of thing," she said dangerously.  
  
"It's not exactly the same," he fidgeted, knowing it was way more similar than he wished to consider. "I think he's in more of a physical relationship than anything emotional, but I'm not certain of that."  
  
"Then stay out of it," Cordelia advised. "Trust me when I say that breaking up a couple for your own selfish reasons is never a good idea."  
  
He dropped his head and fell silent.  
  
"You really like this guy, don't you?" she softly asked.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"And you think you two have a...connection?"  
  
"He says we don't."  
  
"Is he lying?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Is this about you being a guy?"  
  
"It's about me being me."  
  
"Ouch."  
  
"I just want this to go away," Angel grunted, getting to his feet so he could pace. "This wasn't supposed to happen. Not with him. And now...now he's all I can think about! This, this really hurts, Cordy."  
  
"I'm sorry," she said helplessly.  
  
"Thanks. I, uh, I need to go now. Take a shower or something. Get something to eat. Not to think about this."  
  
"Go ahead. I'll stay here and watch the phones until we close, then I'll lock up."  
  
"Thanks," he softly repeated.  
  
She nodded and dismissed him, and Angel trudged toward the stairs.  
  
"Well, Cordy," she said to herself, "it's up to you to save the day. You're the Dating Slayer, after all."   
  
Angel's cell phone began ringing, and a slow smirk appeared on her face.   
  
"Now we're getting somewhere."   
  
She stood and crossed over into his office, snatched the phone off his desk, and opened it.   
  
"Hello?" she sang.  
  


 

* * *

 

  
"Who is this?" asked a female voice.  
  
"Excuse you?" Cordelia barked. "You called _me_."  
  
"Cordy?"  
  
"Buffy." Well, shit. "What do you want?" she asked in a flat voice.  
  
"This is your phone number?"  
  
She looked around at no one. "Apparently. You called it, and I answered. Now what the hell do you _want_?"  
  
"Oh, um, well, nothing. All of my questions were just answered."  
  
"How convenient. Mine have just begun. How did you get this number, why did you call it, and what's going on?"  
  
Buffy sighed. "I don't know. He's just been so weird lately. And I've been giving him my phone when we patrol, since he's usually on his own now. He won't tell me or Willow what's wrong, and we thought it was about Anya, but she's just as confused as we are, and I was scrolling through my phone, and I saw this number come up twice when Xan had it. So...I guess I thought if I knew who he was talking to, I could figure out some way to help him."  
  
Despite the Slayer's strange, brittle chatter, the pieces came fast and furious and fit themselves together more quickly than Cordelia could comprehend them. Angel had a new cell phone. He had called Buffy, but got Xander. They had talked. Angel had said something which had pissed Xander off. Angel had called back and tried to talk to him again. Xander had said they didn't have a connection.   
  
Oh, fuck.   
  
It was Xander? Angel liked _Xander_?   
  
Xander was involved with someone else? Anya? Anya! The Evil Fairy?   
  
A _physical_ relationship? Her ex was sleeping with _the Evil Fairy_?   
  
Angel wanted to...with Xander? And now Buffy was calling?  
  
Time for damage control.  
  
"What goes on between me and Xander is none of your business," Cordelia declared. "You didn't want to know about it before, and you don't get to know about it now. If he doesn't want you to know, I'm certainly not going to tell you."  
  
"Is he cheating on Anya? With you?" Buffy demanded.  
  
"What the hell makes you think me or Xander owes you an explanation for anything we do? Where was all of this concern when Xander was cheating on _me_ with _your_ other best friend, hm? You may be his friend, but you're not mine. I've known him forever, and if I want to talk to him about anything, even what color thong I'm wearing, I'll do so. Neither of us needs your permission. Stay out of it."  
  
The Slayer was silent for a moment. "You're right," she whispered, her voice but a sigh.  
  
"I know. Don't say anything about this to him, unless you want to piss him off even more."  
  
"I won't."  
  
"Good. Have a nice day!"   
  
Cordelia hung up before Buffy could get in another question, like how it was that she somehow knew how to reach Xander while he had Buffy's phone.  
  
She went back out to the main office and stiltedly sat down at her desk.   
  
What the hell was going on here? How could Angel be interested in Xander?   
  
And the vampire's explanation didn't quite make sense. Xander had willingly talked to him, not once, but twice, but kept insisting that they didn't have a connection?   
  
Denial. Typical Xander Harris denial.  
  
She put her head down on her desk. "Fuck."  
  
What was she supposed to do about this? Angel and Xander? _Together?_  
  
Even as nothing more than friends, it boggled the mind. It just didn't compute.   
  
Maybe Anya was mixed up in all of this somehow. Maybe she got another ugly, stupid necklace and they had all been sucked back into Bizarro World. Because Xander and Angel? As a couple? Yeah, that was pretty bizarre.  
  
Still, she wanted Angel to be happy. Not _too_ happy, of course, and - hey - _that_ might be a problem, but so long as Xander stayed in Sunnydale, Cordelia didn't understand why he and Angel couldn't have phone sex or whatever.   
  
In fact, she just might have to fit the vampire's cell with a transmitter, because she was betting she could sell the transcript for a song and a new Chloe dress.  
  
As for Xander, well, she didn't want him too miserable. Of course, she didn't see how he could help being otherwise, since he was no longer dating her.   
  
The Evil Fairy would be made to suffer for snacking on her sloppy seconds like an anorexic vulture. She could deal just fine with Angel wanting Xander, but not some random chick sinking claws into her very best used-to-be! That would be almost as bad as Xander suddenly calling up and announcing his engagement to Buffy or, worse, Willow.   
  
She shuddered.  
  
Xander and Angel.  
  
Angel and Xander.  
  
But they were boys.  
  
"Huh."  
  
Well, that was okay. In fact, it was kind of hot.   
  
Actually, very hot.   
  
So maybe she'd help them come together. But not like that! It was her job to help the hopeless, after all, and no one was more hopeless than Xander or Angel, except Xander and Angel _together_.  
  
Cordelia beamed and clapped her hands in delight. She loved new missions!


	4. Delivery

Xander was awakened by his mother bellowing down the stairs that someone was at the door for him.   
  
He blearily blinked his eyes before using the heels of his hands to wipe the crust from them. And, hey, how gross was that? Eye crust? Ew.   
  
He threw the musty sheets off of him and stood, his head spinning slightly with the effort. Ny-Quil. Who knew? He combed his fingers through his hair, praying it didn't look like Jiffy Pop, and began stomping up to the main level of the house, making as much as noise as possible just on principle.  
  
"Please don't be Anya, please don't be Anya," he muttered.   
  
He just couldn't handle another discussion about his dysfunctional penis and how they should seek couples counseling to deal better with this sensitive and unfortunate issue. Maybe he should have just told her that he had no problems getting hard when he thought about Angel.   
  
He winced.

Perhaps not. Knowing the ex-demon, she'd hijack him and deliver him to the vampire's doorstep, demanding they copulate before her. And why was that a bad thing again?

Oh, right.   
  
He sighed.  
  
As he turned the corner and headed into the living room, he thought about other potential guests.   
  
He immediately eliminated Giles, because he was pretty sure the Watcher didn't know where he lived. Buffy was a possibility, but she had been very busy lately, what with using her tongue to perform endoscopies on Riley's esophagus. It could be Willow, but she hadn't really come by since she had started college and, while he felt guilty even thinking it, he wasn't up to listening to her whine about how Oz had left. He felt bad for her, he truly did, but Oz was Oz and being a werewolf sucked and he'd had to kill Veruca, who'd pretty much had it coming as far as Xander was concerned, and at least one guy he knew had a life.  
  
Finally reaching the front door, his eyes widened and then narrowed as an impatient deliveryman tapped his foot in waiting.  
  
"You Alexander Harris?" the man sighed. It was that postal worker/DMV employee sigh which Xander always knew meant trouble.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Here." The man thrust a package at Xander, who reflexively reached up to grasp it, before turning on his heel and sauntering away.  
  
"Thanks for your courtesy and attention," Xander called out after him, unsurprised when the guy flipped him off.  
  
He looked down at the parcel in his hand, blinking. Plain brown envelope, no return address, typed label. He didn't _remember_ ordering porn. Stupid Ny-Quil. Stupid websites which took credit card information and offered overnight shipping no matter how groggy their customers.   
  
If he was lucky, he had in his now-sweaty hand a spanking new copy of _Jenna loves Rocco_.

If he was unlucky, which was his usual misfortune, he was holding a book entitled _Souled Vampires and the Bi-Curious Sidekicks Who Love Them_.   
  
No! Not love!   
  
Maybe lust after? Are intrigued by? Want to cuddle with? Do vampires cuddle? Did _Angel_ cuddle?   
  
Mmm. Angel cuddles.   
  
No! Bad Xander!  
  
He sensed a presence behind him, which caused him to jump, and he turned to find his mother shooting curious glaces his way while nonchalantly straightening the contents of the foyer table. Knowing that his mother took to cleaning like cats to the ocean, he decided it was best to open his package in private. Actually, that sounded like good advice in general.   
  
He shot her a tight smile and headed back to the basement, rolling his eyes at her whispered curses.  
  
  
  


* * *

   
  
Once settled back in his basement, he used cautious fingers to open the envelope. What could it be, and who had sent it?   
  
He had already disregarded his porn theory, for which he was somewhat mournful; he could use something about now to bring himself to full mast. Of course, that just made him dwell on things he'd rather not consider, namely the fact that there didn't seem to be more to his relationship with Anya than sex.   
  
Not that that was a bad thing; the sex was pretty phenomenal. Still, it kind of made him feel like a creep, like he was using her to get off, as though he were Parker Abrams.   
  
He grimaced and searched his mind for justifications. Anya loved the sex, too; he knew she did. It just seemed that, outside of bed, they had little in common, like they were trying to force a relationship to excuse their libidos. It hadn't escaped his notice that these thoughts had only surfaced after the initial phone call from Angel.  
  
Stupid vampire.   
  
As much as he wanted to blame Angel for this mess, and for starving children and global warming and everything else wrong in the world, Xander blamed himself more than anyone or anything. He never should have confessed to the vampire that he once had feelings for him. Xander didn't do too well with secrets, but he had hung onto that one like a dog with a bone.   
  
What had he been _thinking_ , spilling the beans? Stupid! That crush was years ago and had been expertly sublimated. Why was it rearing its ugly head now? How could Angel be interested in him? _Why_ would Angel be interested in him?   
  
It wasn't like they could do anything about it, even if they got to the point of potential nudity. No way was Xander willing to uncork that bottle, only for Angelus to pop out and eat his brains.   
  
Besides, it was all about hormones, right? All of this was based on the way Angel looked, because Xander didn't like him as a person or as a vampire or whatever the hell he was. Why should he give up a good thing with Anya for the angst-fest that would surely develop with Angel?   
  
And Christ, what would Buffy say? He could never hurt her that way.  
  
He then realized he had been standing in the middle of the room, staring off into space like a moron.   
  
Sighing and shaking his head, he slipped a finger under the flap of the envelope and pried it apart. Reaching inside, he frowned as his hand grasped a small, solid object. Withdrawing it, he looked down and furrowed his brow at the small cell phone he now held in his palm. A sticky note was pressed upon it. In block letters, it read _Hold down 1 for 2 seconds_.  
  
Oh, shit. He didn't like the implication. Had Angel sent him a phone? Swallowing heavily, he decided to do as the note commanded, rather than wait for the vampire to start calling him. He would take control and end this once and for all.  
  
He pressed the button and hesitantly brought the phone to his ear, waiting for the call to go through.  
  
  
  


* * *

 

  
"Hey, loser."  
  
"Cordy. To what do I owe your displeasure?"  
  
"That's a loaded question. Let's try to narrow it down."   
  
She paused, but then cut him off before he could interject.   
  
"Let's see, we can start with your wardrobe, which is horrendous; segue into your unfortunate lust for henna-haired dwarves, which is pathetic; skip over your unemployed status, because, hey, no surprise there." She hummed. "What's left? Oh! I know! Let's talk about you, Angel, and gay sex."  
  
His eyes grew to the size of saucers before he slapped a palm against his forehead and groaned. "Oh, shit."  
  
  


 

* * *

 

 

This was worse than he thought. This was worse than anything. What in the hell had Angel been thinking, bringing Cordelia into this mess?  
  
"Calm down," she barked. "It's not what you think."  
  
"Of course it's what I think!" he shrieked. "Deadboy involved you in our soap opera!"  
  
"No, he didn't. He came to me, whining about this guy he really liked, who didn't like him."  
  
"So how did you know it was me?"  
  
"Because stealth isn't your forte, dweeb. The Vampire Layer called his cell phone because you were too stupid to erase the logs of his calls to _her_ phone."  
  
"Fuck," he whispered. "So now Buffy knows too?"  
  
"Please. She wouldn't know if her head was shoved up her own ass. If she hasn't figured it out in four years, I doubt clarity is going to sound an alarm now. I answered Angel's phone and deduced that I had been the one calling you. I just didn't correct her misconception."  
  
"You did that for me?"  
  
"I did that for Angel. And maybe for you."  
  
"I miss you so much."  
  
He heard her swallow. "Well, of course you do. I would, too, if I were you, and you'd better believe I give thanks every day that I'm not."  
  
"This is such a mess," he sighed. "Cordy, I don't want this."  
  
"You're lying, Xander. You want this a lot. You always have."  
  
He said nothing.  
  
"Not as long as Angel has, though."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Oh, please. You two ride the short bus to Fluffytown. Anyone who spent any time in your company could see you wanted each other, if they were smart enough to notice. Which explains why I was the only one who ever did."  
  
"You don't…"  
  
"And what the hell are you doing, boinking the Evil Fairy?" she screeched. "You know what? Never mind. I don't want to know. The bottom line is that you shouldn't be boinking her when you really want to boink Angel."  
  
"I don't want to boink him!"  
  
"Because of the curse? Yeah, I can see how that could be a problem. You leave that to me."  
  
"What? No! I don't want to boink him because he's _Angel!_ "  
  
"So you don't think he's hot?"  
  
He spluttered. "That has nothing to do with anything!"  
  
"Sure it does. Look, the two of you are idiots, and you've missed the bigger picture. This isn't about you or Angel; it's about _me_! And if I can't have either one of you – because of course I don't want you – then it's only fair to me that you be with each other."  
  
" _What?_ "  
  
"So, once again, I've taken the initiative and provided you with a cell phone. Angel's number is programmed in. All you have to do is press number two."  
  
"And you're number one?" he asked, his lips twitching wryly.  
  
"Duh," she sang. "I'm always number one. Besides, I'll always be the first in your heart, so why not in your phone? Everyone else pales in comparison to the glory that is me, be they souled vampires or Evil Fairies."  
  
He knew she had just exposed a sliver of vulnerability, and as much as he wanted to press the issue, he knew her well enough to let it go; she didn't need affirmation. "I can't do this, honey. I can't do this to Anya or Buffy."  
  
"Psh. How much are you going to give up for your hero, dingus? Nothing you did broke them up; that was all on them."  
  
"You know better."  
  
"The hell I do. If you hadn't lied to her, she'd be dead. Again."  
  
"And Anya?"  
  
"Do you love her?"  
  
"We've been together for a few months now."  
  
"But do you love her?"  
  
"They're just as mean to her as they were to you."  
  
"But do you love her?"  
  
"She doesn't have anyone else. She doesn't understand our world."  
  
" _But do you love her?_ "  
  
"I don't know."  
  
"Well, figure it out!" she snapped. "It's not your job to rescue every damsel in distress, Xander. You're forgetting that I know Anya. Not well, but I know her. She'll be just fine. She's not some fragile flower who's going to wilt if your dick isn't stirring her honey pot."  
  
"Cordelia!"  
  
She blew a raspberry. "Get serious. You're making this harder than it needs to be. Angel wants you; do you want him?"  
  
"No." He paused and waited for her to interrupt, before gleaning that she was going to wait him out, no matter how long it took. Her silence had always been more unnerving than her threats, and he knew he didn't have a chance. "Yeah," he whispered.  
  
"So what's the problem?"  
  
"Oh, I don't know," he laughed sardonically. "That's he's Buffy's ex? That he's a vampire?"  
  
"That he's a man?"  
  
"He has a penis! _I_ have a penis!"  
  
"How well I remember."  
  
He blushed, and knew she knew he was blushing.  
  
"I know you're not a homophobe, Xander. You were friends with Larry, even though he had that ridiculous crush on you."  
  
"He didn't have a crush on me," he mumbled.  
  
"Bullshit. If you had given him a second look, he'd have been on his knees faster than a Catholic at Midnight Mass."  
  
He choked.  
  
"You're scared. You know, just because you're both guys doesn't mean you're going to find yourself on your back with your legs in the air. No one's saying you have to be Angel's bitch. He's not going to make you submit to him or anything. That's not how he works. He's not like that."  
  
He snorted. "Right. You're telling me big, tall, strapping vampire is going to take it up the ass?"  
  
She made a noise, a combination of a snarl and a sigh. "No one's saying you have to make with the beast with two backs. There's other stuff you can do. Remember what we used to do in the broom closet? We never went all the way, but we were satisfied. Besides, you're rushing things. So far, you two can't even carry on a phone conversation for more than ten minutes at a time."  
  
He gave a noncommittal grunt.  
  
"Fine. Well, I tried."  
  
"Wait. That's it?"  
  
"Yeah. I'm not going to force you into anything, dork," she sighed, "but I want you to be happy, and I don't think you've been happy in a long time."  
  
"No," he whispered. "And it's nothing against Anya!"  
  
"I didn't say it was," she replied through clenched teeth.  
  
"If. If I wanted this, do you really think it could work?"  
  
"I think it would be worth it to try. What have you got to lose?"  
  
"The one remnant of my self-respect to which I tenaciously cling?"  
  
"There's that," she agreed, "but someone can only disrespect you if you let them. You and I fought all the time, but we always respected one another. I'd like to think we still do."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"So do me the courtesy of listening to me, really listening to what I'm about to say."  
  
He braced himself. "Okay."  
  
"I love you, Xander. I always have, ever since we were kids, and I want you to be happy. You haven't been really happy since Jesse died."  
  
He waited.  
  
"I know you two were…involved." She heard his breath catch and rushed on. "I don't know when it started or when it ended, or even if it did, but I knew. I know what it cost you to do what you had to do to save me." She paused. "Thank you."   
  
She ignored his squeak. "Angel's lonely, too, Xander. I want him to be happy. I don't know if you can find happiness with each other, but maybe you should try to find out. You can't keep living your life for Buffy. I know you love her, I know you believe in her, and that's fine. I may not understand it and I may not like it, but I respect it. I'm not saying you should stop fighting, and I'm not saying to stop being her friend, but don't let this pass you by out of fear. Not like you did with us."  
  
"I don't know what you mean."  
  
"Yeah, you do. You were as insecure as I was about us being together, but when we were, I was never happier."  
  
He heard the tears he knew she had never cried and never would. "I still love you. I always will. I never stopped."  
  
"I know," she whispered. "Me too. It just…it wasn't in the cards for us." She sighed. "Look, our options are pretty limited. We live in a world that's just as large as our own, but hidden from everyone else. It's never going to be you and Buffy, Xan. It's never gonna be you and Willow, or it would have been already. Who's left? Giles?"  
  
He snorted. "That tweed _is_ awfully tight."  
  
She barked out a harsh peal of laughter. "I know how lonely you've been, how lonely you _are_ , and if you were confident in whatever you have with the Evil…with Anya, you wouldn't even be thinking about Angel." She hesitated. "Do you ever wonder how it might have been if Angel had met you before he did Buffy?"  
  
"Yes," he breathed.  
  
"Then maybe you should find out. He's not the same, uh, vampire as he was in Sunnydale. You're not the same boy you were in sophomore year. You've both been through stuff; we all have. I appreciate that you want to be a good friend and that you don't want to hurt Buffy, but ensuring her comfort at the sake of your own happiness? That's just stupid."  
  
He sighed.  
  
"Don't make this about me," she whispered. "You aren't betraying Buffy by exploring something with Angel. You aren't betraying me either. What happened with you and Willow…no, I don't honestly think I'll ever get over it, but I'd be lying if I said I never saw it coming."  
  
"Cordy, I…" he gasped.  
  
"What, baby?"  
  
"I hurt people," he choked out. "I hurt Jesse, and I hurt you and Willow. I lied to Buffy to save her, but was it worth the cost? Sometimes I think it was, but then I remember that it was Angel who went to Hell, not Angelus. And that stupid love spell I made Amy cast. How many people were hurt with that, even if they didn't remember after? _I_ remember. Every mistake I've ever made, I carry with me. If I do this, I'll hurt Anya. I don't…I don't want to hurt Angel, too. Not again."  
  
"If I thought you would, do you really think I'd be encouraging this? That I'd be talking to you about it all, let alone part with my paltry paycheck to buy your stupid ass a phone?"  
  
His laugh was marked with hysteria.  
  
"No one's saying you and Angel have to get married or anything. I mean, where would we even find a minister for that? And whose maid of honor would I be, yours or his? Whatever, as long as you both give me a present." 

He pulled the phone away from his ear and stared incredulously at it.

  
"No one's saying you have to ring his bell on first sight. I just think you should talk to him, that you two should try and get to know who the other is now. It's time to let go of your mistakes, Xander."  
  
"I can't. I can't forget them."  
  
"So don't. It's good to remember, because that means you won't make them again, but don't let them weigh you down to the point that you're only surviving and not living."  
  
"I can't call him. I'm too embarrassed. I don't even know what to say."  
  
"You just leave Angel to me."


	5. Prey

The day after her conversation with Xander, a bedraggled and exhausted Cordelia Chase hauled her discount designer-clad carcass into Angel Investigations, muttering a slur of invectives underneath her breath.

The big stupid vampire had _better_ appreciate all of the effort she had been expending on this venture – gratitude which she expected to culminate with Angel’s purchase of the lilac Jimmy Choo’s she’d had her eye on for the past month – or she would be making all future pots of coffee with holy water imported from Lourdes.

Her arms laden down with helpful implements, she paused in the doorway and raised an interested eye as she was presented with a rather welcome view of Doyle’s backside.  
  
It was a nice butt. Too bad he insisted on rocking the black denim Wrangler look. She shook her head. He was going to have to do something about that if he ever expected her to regard him as anything more than a lifter of heavy boxes and a sounding board for her demon complaints.  
  
Hearing her approach, he scooted away from the filing cabinet and scrambled to his feet. Turning around, his face became marred with concern. “You look terrible!”  
  
She rose to her full height, squared her shoulders, and gave him a look which would have melted scaffolding.  
  
He fidgeted and his eyes restlessly roamed about the room in search of escape. As Cordelia was unhelpfully blocking the main door, he dove for the staircase and clambered down the steps, where he would sequester himself in Angel’s apartment until the girl was no longer homicidal.  
  
Cordelia stared briefly at his retreating form before letting out a contented sigh. She might have lost Xander, but luckily she could still make a worshipful acolyte flee in terror when it suited.

She slogged over to her desk and unceremoniously dropped her purchases on top of it. She peeked into Angel’s private office, because the big dork was too stupid to close his own blinds, and was amused to seem him bustling about, filled with nervous energy. He was straightening his desk, which basically involved determining the best place to position his pencil. He was probably daydreaming, struggling to construct clever insults he could lob at Xander in between breathless make-out sessions. Which was pointless, since Angel didn’t need to breathe.  
  
Her eyes softened as her lips twitched. The whole thing was endlessly cute and just a bit pathetic. To see the Scourge of Europe so unseated by an eighteen-year-old boy was more karmic justice than those stupid Gypsies could have ever conceived.

Xander and Angel, this season’s Goofus and Gallant.

Angel jonesing for Xander was funny; the idea of her helping Angel pursue Xander was hysterical; the look on Buffy's face when she found out her best boy friend and her ex-boyfriend were getting horizontal? Priceless.

She held a hand to her stomach, doubled over, and wheezed with repressed laughter.  
  
In a moment, she righted herself and began combing through the material she had researched and authored, all to help the vampire in his quest to score her former flame. Weird. That stupid song by that proto-emo with the tragic hair suddenly began pounding in her ears.

“Irony isn’t a black fly in your chardonnay, dumbass,” she hissed, shaking her head. “Irony is your vampire boss wanting to suck on your ex-boyfriend.” She frowned. “Oh, gross!”

But not _too_ gross.  
  
She flipped through the manual she had produced for Angel – courtesy of an all-night Kinko’s, which she would totally be expensing to the agency – and quickly looked over the charts she had laboriously constructed in lieu of sleep. Because she didn’t need beauty sleep. Too much would set the world on it’s ear, after all. Not everyone was ready for her magnificence.

“One day,” she swore to herself.  
  
She chugged a shot of Evian and mentally reviewed her opening statement.

Angel was putty in her hands, and Xander always had been; now, it was time to smash them together and see what interesting shapes they formed.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
Angel was pacing back and forth before his desk, internally debating his next move.

This in itself was a mistake, because the longer he refrained from taking action, the more Angelus insisted on torturing him with a variety of creative and disturbing fantasies involving a very naked Xander, some ice cubes, and a feather boa. The demon could render even the most innocuous items perverse.

It was rather unsettling that Angelus had latched so quickly onto the idea of being with Xander, and it was only now that Angel realized it was nothing new: the demon had _always_ wanted the boy.

Huh.  
  
But what to do? Should he try calling Xander again? What if Buffy had taken back her phone? At this point, she was the last person with whom he wanted to speak. Although, he might be able to pump her for information about Xander: what type of music he liked; his favorite flavor of ice cream; the size of his penis.  
  
What?  
  
He angrily shook his head. Buffy had better _not_ know anything about Xander's penis! That penis was his!

He clamped his mouth shut to stave the whine struggling to escape his lips.

_Xander Penis!_  
  
Jesus, what was wrong with him? The last time he had talked to Xander, the boy had told him never to contact him again, that he wanted nothing to do with him, but that only made Angel want him more. It was like he was entering another adolescence, some mutant souled vampire puberty which insisted on mocking him and leaving him with a permanent hard-on which no amount of masturbation could relieve.  
  
Maybe he was just lonely; in fact, he knew he was. Ever since he had left Sunnydale – and Buffy – there had been a pervasive, consuming ache in his heart, an emptiness he longed to fill, and it was surprising and frankly terrifying that he wanted to fill it with Xander and not Buffy.

What did this mean?

He knew he loved Buffy, that he always would, and that nothing would change that; but he also knew that their time together was over, and had been even before they had officially ended things. He loved Cordelia and Doyle as family, coming to rely on them so completely it scared him, but he didn’t consider either a serious romantic prospect. He sincerely doubted that Cordelia would ever involve herself with a vampire - especially him - remembering all too well that of which Angelus was capable, and it was obvious that Doyle only had eyes for Cordelia.  
  
 _I love you_ , he thought.

How desperately he wanted to say that to someone again, to mean it with the force of everything inside of him. He wanted to love someone who knew everything about him, who understood both parts of him.

_I love you. I love you so much_.

And the more he thought of those words, the more he imagined himself saying them to Xander, watching the boy’s huge eyes fill with surprise and wonder and happiness, but knowing there would also be confusion and fear and trepidation. Angel didn’t want those things; he didn’t want them for himself and certainly not for Xander.

He flashed back on their second conversation, overcome with sadness. Never had he thought that his leaving Sunnydale had hurt Xander, that the boy might miss him. Not that Xander missed _him_ per se, but mourned the demise of life as he had come to know and understand it. For Xander, the school was gone, Cordelia was gone, Buffy and Willow were off at college; the boy was alone and had drifted into a relationship out of desperation, now horrified that his perceived selfishness would eventually devastate Anya.  
  
Could Xander really miss him? Could Xander ever love him?  
  
 _I love you.  
  
I love you, Xander._  
  
“I love you, Xander.”  
  
A wave of peace washed over him, his lips curving into a goofy smile as he gave voice to the words.  
  
“Well, that certainly makes things easier.”  
  
He spun on his heel, eyes wide, and began backing up as Cordelia leaned in the doorway, smirking at him.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
“Uh.”  
  
She cocked her head. “Yeah, you’re going to need to work on your repartee if you plan on keeping up with Xander.” Her face turned thoughtful. “Of course, it might be funnier to watch him verbally decimate you while that Bambi look you’re currently sporting takes on new levels of hilarity.”  
  
He grunted and sat down behind his desk. “Cordy, I’m busy.”  
  
“Yeah.” She glanced around. “Yeah, you _look_ busy.”  
  
“What do you want?” he sighed, knowing there was no way he was getting out of this.  
  
“Oh, nothing,” she sang, training her eyes on the ceiling and twirling a lock of hair around a finger. “I was just talking to Xander yesterday, and…”  
  
He swallowed heavily as nausea kicked in. “You what?” he croaked.  
  
“Talked to Xander.”  
  
“That’s what I thought you said.”  
  
“Let’s hear it for vamp hearing!” She frowned. “Hey, was that a pun? Or a play on words?” She shook her head. “Something. Whatever.”  
  
“What did he say?”  
  
“About you?” she cooed, eyes sparkling.  
  
He grumbled, before startling. “Wait! How do you even know about this?”  
  
She rolled her eyes. “Well, Sparky, you left your phone on your desk two days ago and guess who called?”  
  
“Xander?” he asked, beaming like an idiot. “Xander called me?”  
  
She stared at him for a long moment. “No, you great baboon!" she finally thundered. " _Buffy_ called.”  
  
“W-What?”  
  
“Bambi look,” she grinned. She shook her head in fond exasperation. “Apparently, Xander neglected to erase your calls to her phone while it was in his possession. He’s been acting weird, and Buffy managed to catch on to that fact relatively quickly, which is surprising, considering she’s, you know, _her_ , but whatever. _Anyway_ , she put two and two together, for once not coming up with twenty-two, and called the 'mysterious' phone number. Luckily, I answered and convinced her that I was the one calling Xander.”  
  
“You?”  
  
“I’m sorry. Is this too difficult for you to follow?”  
  
He groaned and put his head in his hands. “What happened?”  
  
“You mean after I figured out from her babble that my first love is the guy you want ride like National Velvet?” she barked, eyes hard.  
  
He raised his eyes and gave her a mournful gaze. “Cordy, I’m sorry,” he whispered.  
  
She pressed her lips together, but was unable to stave off the smile. “It’s okay,” she said. “I’m fine with it.” She held up a hand. “No, I really am. I think you two could be good for each other.”  
  
He raised a brow. “And?” he asked, suspicion tingeing his voice.  
  
She shrugged. “What? Like my best friend and my best ex, both incredibly hot, rolling around in the sheets isn’t enough?” She tilted her head. “Okay. Well, there’s the bonus of getting Xander away from the Evil Fairy. Plus, the look on Buffy’s face when she finds out she made you both gay? That’s just gravy.”  
  
“She didn’t make us gay!”  
  
“No, but she’ll _think_ she did, which is really all that matters. At least as far as I’m concerned. Which – _again_ – is really all that matters,” she nodded.  
  
“Cordelia!”  
  
She blew a raspberry. “Oh, please. Now, do you want the skinny?”  
  
“The what?”  
  
“You’re so _old_ ,” she complained. “Do you want to know what’s going on? What Xander’s thinking? About you?”

Oh, yeah. Taunting the vampire was her new favorite game!  
  
“I don’t care,” he petulantly grumbled.  
  
She shrugged. “Okay. Well, now that I know that Xan really _does_ consider guys an option, I’m sure there are some hotties out there I can hook him up with.”  
  
“What other guys?” he screamed. “Option?” he then repeated, blinking rapidly. “Guys are an option? For Xander?”  
  
“Stuck on repeat?”  
  
“Cordy!” He rubbed a hand over his face. “Please?”  
  
Her face softened. “He likes you.”  
  
“Really?”  
  
The desperation in his voice should have amused her, but instead she felt sad, and maybe a little guilty for teasing him. She frowned. No, not guilty. She didn’t do guilt.

“Yeah," she continued, "but he’s also majorly freaked, okay? And you’re going to have to be a little bit patient with that.”  
  
“But there’s a chance?”  
  
“Well,” she drawled, deciding that more taunting was in order, “that depends.”  
  
He narrowed his eyes. “On what?”  
  
“On whether you’re willing to suck it up and learn from the master.” Her eyes glittered with anticipation.  
  
A very _bad_ feeling began coursing through his veins. He knew better than to question the identity of this supposed master. It could only be one person. Still, she was the one person who had had a relationship with Xander, who knew him far better than Angel himself did. And hadn’t Cordy once called herself the Slayer of Dating?

Wait, he wanted to date Xander?

Oh, yeah. He sure did.

And if Cordy had all the answers, he would be her willing student.

“What did you have in mind?”  
  
She planted her hands on his desk and leaned down into his face. “I’m so glad you asked,” she purred.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
He watched with incredulity as she hauled an easel into his office and set it up before his desk. His mouth dropped open as she displayed upon it a picture of Xander, blown up poster-size, the boy’s bright eyes and enormous smile looking back at him and warming his heart. Then he noticed that superimposed over the picture he wanted to affix to the ceiling over his bed was a large red target sign.

Beneath the picture, the caption read _Stalking the Wild Xander_.  
  
Oh. Holy. Shit.  
  
She unceremoniously threw on his desk a book. He stared at her before glancing down. The same picture was reproduced on the cover of the book, though the title was different. He squinted.

“ _Hunting Xanders: Your Guide to Snaring the Geek, by Cordelia Chase_?” he slowly read aloud.  
  
She nodded proudly before then dropping on his desk the bill for the materials, as well as for her matchmaking services. Surprisingly, it was less than he would have expected.   
  
What the hell had he gotten himself into?  
  
He looked again at the manual, then at the poster, before running down her itemized expense report. He glanced up at her.

“I’ll cut you a check by the end of business today.”  
  
  


* * *

 

  
  
“Step One,” Cordelia barked, slamming a tactical baton up against the poster, making Angel jump, “know your target.”  
  
“I know Xander.”  
  
“There will be a question-and-answer period later,” she sniffed, “and you don’t know nearly as much about him as you think.”  
  
He sat back in his chair and waited.  
  
“Alexander Lavelle Harris…”  
  
“Lavelle?”  
  
She slammed the baton down on his desk, narrowly missing his hand. “Please pay attention!”  
  
His eyes widened and he nodded.  
  
“Alexander Lavelle Harris, born Friday, October 13, 1981.” She glared at him. “ _Yes_ ,” she testily replied, “he was born on Friday the Thirteenth. No smart comments.”  
  
He nodded again, making sure to keep the smirk off his face.  
  
“As if you could say anything smart anyway,” she sneered. She cleared her throat and continued. “Vital statistics: 5’11”, 160 pounds. Hair: black. Eyes: chocolate brown. Penis size: 8.5 inches; circumference: 6 inches.”  
  
Angel gurgled as his mouth watered.  
  
“Would you like to know what it tastes like?” she grinned.  
  
Two could play at this game, he thought, annoyed that she knew so much about Xander’s penis when he himself did not. “Yes.”  
  
Her mouth fell open as she flushed. She briefly looked away.  
  
He finally smirked.  
  
“Irrelevant!” she finally announced, nodding. “If you’re lucky, maybe one day you’ll find out for yourself. Just remember, one word from me, and you’ll be back to jerking your junk while dreaming of him telling you off.”  
  
He balked. "How did you know?!"  
  
She cackled.  
  
He whined and sighed. This was going to be a long day.  
  
“Why aren’t you taking notes?” she screeched. “There’s going to be a quiz later!”  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
“Okay,” she said cheerfully, “moving on. Family.”  
  
“He lives with his parents, right?”  
  
She nodded. “Tony and Jessica Harris, both alcoholics who regularly express to him their desire that he had never born.”  
  
He stared. “What.”  
  
“You heard me. They’ve told him point blank that the only reason they got married was because his mother got knocked up. They don’t like each other, they don’t like him, and that’s why he spends as much time away from his house as possible.”  
  
Angel didn’t know what to say to that, but he was afforded new, yet unwelcome, insight into Xander.

“Oh,” he said in a small voice.  
  
“This is not information he wants getting around,” she continued, “and not something he likes talking about. The only reason I’m telling you is so that you avoid all mentions of his family. Don’t ask about them, don’t talk about them, never bring them up. If he gets one whiff of pity from you where his home life is concerned, he _will_ kick your ass, and I will don my old uniform and cheer him on. Is that clear?”  
  
“Did you ever ask about them?”  
  
She shook her head. “No. He didn’t want to discuss his family any more than I did mine. It was one of the few things we had in common, and if you’re smart, and I pray you are when it comes to Xander or else I’ll have to stake you, you won’t ever ask him about them.”  
  
He nodded. “Okay. Are…are they the only family he has?”  
  
She nodded. “He’s an only child and has no other relatives.”  
  
“Like you?”  
  
“Like me,” she said in a clipped voice.  
  
He sensed it was best to move on. “Okay. What else?”  
  
She moved back to the easel, which was when he realized that the poster of Xander was actually part of a much larger book. She flipped the page and her eyes watered at the next photograph.

“Jesse McNally,” she whispered.  
  
“I remember Jesse,” Angel said quietly. “Xander and I spoke of him.”  
  
She nodded and wiped away her tears. “Good. Then I don’t have to. Suffice it to say, Jesse is an incredibly sensitive topic with Xander. Given that it was Darla who killed him, I would advise you never to speak of Jesse with Xander unless he initiates it. As far as I know, even he and Willow don’t talk about Jess.”  
  
“Do you, Cordy?”  
  
“Step off, Angel.” She flipped the page and glared at the next photo. “Willow Rosenberg.” She curled a lip. “There’s nothing I can tell you that you don’t already know, but let me just say this: Xander will die for this girl. He will _kill_ for this girl. They’ve been best friends since before they could speak, and if anything does happen with you and Xander as a couple, never _ever_ underestimate the influence she has over him.”

She held up her hands. “I’m not saying that he allows her to choose who he dates, but she will make her opinion known – loud and often – and he _does_ listen. He might not take it into account, but he listens. You have a better relationship with her than I do, but don’t expect that to count for much where Xander is concerned. She might have rooted for you and Buffy as star-crossed lovers or whatever, but everything that Xander thought about you and Buffy? That’s what Willow will think about you and Xander, and she will parrot it right back at him. Trust me on this, okay? I know her, too. I have all my life.”  
  
He clenched his teeth and nodded; she was right and he knew it. Willow would very much be an issue in whatever relationship he tried to begin with Xander.  
  
She exhaled and flipped to the next picture. “Buffy Summers.”

She tilted her head and studied the photograph for a minute, then nodded.

“She will be the major obstacle you’ll have to overcome. Xander doesn’t just love her; he reveres her. She’s his _hero_ ,” she scoffed, sneering. “Don’t make that out for less than what it is." She snorted. "He will never willingly hurt her, even though she doesn’t extend that same courtesy to him. You can better believe, and he and I have spoken about this, that she is one of his major concerns about even speaking with you on the phone. He knows that any inkling of the two of you together will likely devastate her.”  
  
“But what about Riley?”  
  
Cordelia blinked. “Who?”  
  
“Buffy’s new boyfriend,” he said sourly. “Xander told me about him. He’s her T.A.”  
  
She frowned. “He didn’t mention this Riley person to me.” Her eyes hooded, annoyance seeping from her pores. “Whatever. It doesn’t really matter anyway. Buffy thinks of Xander as her property. She’s his hero, and he’s her doyenne. Except, you know, he’s a guy. It won’t make a difference if she’s with someone else or not. She won’t want to see you moving on, and especially not with her best friend. Newsflash, vampire: girls don’t like their friends dating their exes.”  
  
He chewed on his lip. “Is that how you feel, too?”  
  
“I already told you I’m fine with it, and I am. What Xander and I had is over, but you and Buffy? Well, there’s still all this unfinished business between you two. Xander and I had fifteen years of history before we started dating, and while our breakup was…bitter…we’ve made peace with it. I may not like to think about him with someone else, but I want him to be happy, which is what makes me such a wonderful person." She nodded. "Much better than Buffy or Willow.”   
  
He splayed his hands on his desk and looked up at her. “So what do I do?”  
  
“Correction: what do _we_ do? Leave Willow to me; I have some pull with her.” She gave a predatory grin before her face again shut down. “As for Buffy?”

She shook her head. “You’re on your own there, but if you’re serious about Xander, I suggest you call Buffy and deal with her before trying to start anything with him. Take all of the blame. Make her hate you. Tell her that Xander doesn’t know you’re talking to her about this. Play on her guilt. She’s hurt him before and she knows it. She won’t want to do that again.

"Also? She’s not happy about Xander and the Evil Fairy. Talk up that angle.” Her eyes flashed. “If all else fails and she won’t see reason, remember this: he brought her back to life; she owes him. Make her think that you could take Xander away from her for good. That will keep her line.”  
  
“You want me to threaten her?”  
  
“Threaten. Promise. Whatever.”  
  
He looked down. “I don’t know if I can do that.”  
  
“Then it’s obvious you’re not interested in Xander enough to fight for him, which means you’re exactly the wrong person for him.” She began packing up her teaching materials.  
  
“No, wait!”  
  
“Yes?” she prompted.  
  
“I…” His words fled.  
  
“You want to know the biggest secret about Xander Harris?” she barked. “He doesn’t believe that anyone could ever want him.” She slammed her hand on Buffy’s face. “This? These people? In the end, they don’t mean _dick_ , because Xander will torpedo your relationship as soon as he begins to question why you’re with him.”  
  
“Cordy…”  
  
“Shut up. I’m talking now. Listen up and listen well, vampire: Xander’s self-destructive streak _will_ eventually rear its big, ugly, pointed head, so you need to be prepared. He doesn’t think he’s worthy of love. His self-esteem has been in the toilet for years. He doesn’t think he’s smart enough or strong enough or handsome enough. These are things you have to realize, accept and deal with, because they will come up over and over again.”

She sighed. “As much as I love Xander, as much as I always will, as charming and goofy and funny as he is, and as great a kisser and a sparring partner as he is, it’s not easy being in a relationship with him, Angel, because he will never believe that you won’t leave him for something better.”  
  
He mulled that over, recognizing that she was imparting something incredibly important, despite how much he wanted her to be wrong. “So how do I prevent that?”  
  
“You can’t. Like I said, all you can do is prepare for it.” She glared at him and narrowed her eyes. “Why do you want to be with him?”  
  
Angel frowned. “Because he’s smart. Maybe not the way Willow or Giles is, but in his own way.” He started. “In _your_ way.”  
  
One corner of her mouth tugged up, almost against her will. “Explain.”  
  
“He knows…things. He knows people. He looks at things in a way different from almost everyone else, but he has the ability to cut right to the heart of the matter, no matter how you might try to hide.”  
  
“Good,” she said, nodding with approval. “What else?”  
  
Angel pulled a face. “He really doesn’t think he’s good-looking?”  
  
She snorted and shook her head. “Not when compared to someone like you.”  
  
“What does that mean?”  
  
Cordelia rolled her eyes. “Look, I know it might be hard for you to remember what you look like because of the mirror thing, but you’re hot, Angel. You’re gorgeous. I went through this with Xander, okay? He could never believe that someone as beautiful as me would be interested in him because he truly doesn’t understand that he’s handsome.

"And while, no, he’s not conventionally handsome and he’ll never be a supermodel, he has that boy-next-door thing working for him. His beauty is…wholesome.”

She laughed, though it was brittle. “He’d hate to be described that way, but it’s true. His beauty is natural. If you look at each of his features, they’re all extraordinary. His lips, his eyes, his cheekbones. And maybe some part of him thinks he _does_ have nice eyes or nice lips or whatever, but for him, the sum of the parts is less than ideal.”  
  
“That’s stupid.”  
  
“I certainly think so. Even when we did nothing but scream insults at each other all those years, I always knew he was hot. In a completely strange and bizarre way, of course.”  
  
He sighed. “Is it really as bad as you’re making it out to be?”  
  
“Yeah, and if you can’t deal with that, walk away now. Spare both him and yourself.”  
  
He thought about it, perhaps longer than he realized, for when he turned back to face her, she was now sitting in a chair and filing her nails.  
  
“Well?”  
  
“I can’t. I can’t walk away.” He shook his head. “I won’t.”  
  
She smiled. “That’s all I needed to know.”


End file.
